


A Deeper Wound

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Confusion, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Promnis Week 2018, Status Effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: A brief but intense bout of confusion during a hunt leaves Prompto injured at the hands of Ignis. But sometimes words are what cut the deepest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I completely missed out on Promnis Week. Winter Depression hit and left me at my lowest low during the week that I had waited so long for. I've had this sitting around in my docs ever since, and have finally decided to clean it up and post it. My Promnis Week fic for the prompt: Status Ailment

Sweat dripped down Prompto’s face as he dove to the ground, barely avoiding a ,mouthful of grass and dirt. A cruelly pointed stinger ripped through the air above, missing his head by inches as a giant wasp swooped over him. Before the oversized insect could swing around for another strike, Prompto rolled to his feet with both pistols drawn. A staccato rhythm of shots shattered the air as he opened fire, bringing down his target. And several others.

Prompto twirled one of his guns with a cocky grin, letting out a quick whistle.

It turned into a grimace when one of the wasps plummeted to the ground near his feet, legs still twitching as thick fluids leaked from its carcass. Gross. Prompto backed away, firing another shot into the thing. Excessive? Maybe. But he wasn’t taking chances. No way. That stinger was as big as his  _ forearm _ .

Prompto tore his eyes away with a shiver and scanned the sky for more targets.

A few yards further, Noctis and Gladio fought through a small group of MTs. Prompto let out a grumble, kicking his boot at a tuft of grass. 

“Figures. Course they’d drop a pile on us mid hunt.” He cast an uneasy glance at the cluster of bracelets wrapped around his wrist. Seeing one of those clunky ships hover into view always sent his heart kicking into overdrive. How the hell did the Empire always manage to track them down? In the middle of nowhere, too.

“Prompto! Pay attention!” Gladio’s yell rose above the clashing of swords and armor, reminding him that he had other things to worry about. 

He nodded, raising his pistols. As long as he and Iggy watched their backs for more wasps or any stray MTs, Noctis and Gladio were free to mow through the rest of the ranks. Loud whoops and banter bounced off the trees bordering the clearing as their targets fell. Prompto grinned, watching Noctis and Gladio bump fists another MT fell beneath their blades, dissolving into daemonic miasma. 

Prompto grinned, trotting forward to take part in the victory when movement caught his eye. A yellowy blur shot toward Noctis from the trees, but the wasp dropped to the sound of gunshot before it could even get close to the Prince.

“Excellent shot, Prompto!” Ignis’ voice boomed from the other side of the small woodland clearing. The praise lit a glow in his chest, and he couldn't stop a huge grin from growing on his face as he gave one of his guns another little twirl.

With the sky cleared of foes, Prompto shifted his aim to the last few MTs, assisting Noctis and Gladio whenever he found an opening. The last soldier fell under one of Ignis’ daggers, thrown with deadly accuracy to embed in it’s chest with a shower of sparks.

Prompto let out a cheer, wiping the sweat from his face. Gladio and Noctis exchanged reckless grins, roughly shoving each other as Ignis strode across the clearing with a satisfied smile. Prompto watched as he skirted destroyed MTs and stepped gracefully over wasp carcasses like he was walking down the hall at the Citadel. Because only Iggy could make even a trek across an area littered with dead foes look like a walk in the park. A really  _ nice _ walk in the park.

Prompto jogged over to join the group, slapping Noctis on the shoulder as he passed by. He started to walk toward Ignis, still a few yards away. 

He heard it before he saw it. Ignis did too, jerking his head toward the line of trees behind him. Buzzing.

“Iggy! Duck!” Prompto yelled, summoning his pistols back to his hands. Before he could raise them and take aim, Ignis’ scream rang through the clearing. The sound echoed through his bones and he stood with guns half-raised, frozen. The crunch of daggers against rigid exoskeleton brought the buzzing to an abrupt end.

“Shit! Ignis!” Noctis yelled, throwing himself into a warp. He managed to catch Ignis before he collapsed, stumbling under the dead weight of his Advisor. Gladio raced after him, lending support in lowering Ignis to the ground. They kept his torso upright, and Prompto could see the wound on Ignis’ chest as he sprinted over, too late to be of any use.

Blood stained the edges of the ripped purple fabric, dripping steadily from the deep gash. Even as his hands shook, Prompto breathed a sigh of relief. At least… at least the stinger only grazed him. Ignis must have twisted out of the way just in time to avoid being impaled. Just thinking about what could have happened… imagining one of those huge stingers sticking out of Ignis... it made Prompto’s stomach squirm. He looked away for a moment, feeling a little lightheaded.

The sound of a potion cracking and the fizzle of magic drew his attention back. Ignis stared at him with glazed eyes as the wound closed, leaving a thin, fresh scar among the leftover blood. Prompto shivered, taking a step closer. 

“Iggy? Babe?” He swallowed hard when Ignis didn’t react to the pet name. He almost always gave an annoyed huff when Prompto used it in front of Noct and Gladio.

No, Ignis looked out of it. Like,  _ really _ out of it.

He bit his lip hard enough to leave marks, his legs shaking beneath him. It was his fault Ignis was hurt. He should have paid closer attention, should have checked again for remaining foes. That was his job, to stay on the outskirts of battle and watch everyone’s backs.

And now? The man he loved was hurt and it was his fault. His dumb, useless fault...

The dry grass whispered against his boots as he crept forward on unsteady feet, opening his mouth to… to what? Apologize? That wasn’t going to make this better. Iggy could have died. Probably hated him, now. 

“I-Iggy…? I--”

The words withered in his throat as Ignis’ face twisted into a furious snarl, teeth flashing. Prompto stumbled backwards, his blood freezing in his veins.

He had seen Iggy frustrated plenty of times, but never angry like  _ this. _ Never had he heard the composed man sound so feral.

He’d screwed up big time. Did he even have the right to apologize? He tried again, voice shaking as he looked into Ignis’ eyes, narrowed into bright emerald slits with the force of his rage.

“Ignis, I’m--”

The apology never came. Instead, Prompto found himself sprawled on the ground, head aching as it thumped against the packed dirt. Blinking against the glare of the sun, he saw Ignis above him, pinning his arms down. Cold fury sparked in his eyes. 

Prompto swore he felt his heart shudder to a stop. Ignis always looked at him with kindness and fond patience. With  _ love _ . The worst he’d ever earned was a warning glare when he tried to snatch an early taste of dinner while Iggy was cooking. Or when he got too loud playing on his phone while everyone was sleeping. 

Never anything like this. 

Never.

“Specs, what the hell!?” Noctis lunged forward as Ignis summoned his daggers, teeth bared. 

“Snuck up on us,” Ignis snapped, his words slurring. He swayed on top of Prompto, hands shaking around his daggers. Noctis stumbled to a halt, his eyes round as he stared, too nervous to get any closer. The look in Ignis’ eyes rattled his courage, fever bright and distant. He’d never seen him look like that.

“What? I didn’t… Iggy, I don’t understand!” Prompto whimpered, eyeing the daggers with open fear. He knew the damage those could do. He watched Iggy slice open enemies on a daily basis. It was always cool to watch his boyfriend in battle, but now that Prompto was viewing from the pointy ends of Ignis’ weapons, he didn’t like it so much. 

“Ah, it talks,” Ignis mumbled. 

Prompto went still beneath Ignis, his mouth falling open. A tiny, strained noise slipped out as he shrunk against the dirt and grass, feeling impossibly small. His eyes darted to his wrist, safely covered by his snug-fitting bracelets. Iggy didn’t mean…  _ He couldn’t. _

“What the hell are you doing, Iggy!?” Gladio yelled, thundering past Noctis. Ignis didn’t even flinch as Gladio loomed over him, fists clenched and looking ready to tackle him flat.

“Yeah, what are you even talking about?” Noctis demanded, gaze darting between his two closest friends. He tried to circle around, to get to Prompto, but Ignis threw his arm out, warning him away.

“Stay back, Highness!” he barked. “No telling what it could do.”

“Noct…” Prompto whimpered, trembling. Ignis was going to kill him. Ignis had found out his secret and was going to kill him. 

“Let him go! That’s Prompto!” Unable to hold himself back any longer, Noctis grabbed at Ignis’ arm, tugging until his muscles strained, until Ignis stumbled off of Prompto. His Advisor tumbled to his side without an ounce of his usual grace.

Prompto scrabbled backwards, putting distance between himself and Ignis as he tried to get his shaking legs underneath him. 

Ignis shook his head, squinting up at Noctis with dismay. “No. It’s not. That’s an MT. Soulless monstrosity. Manufactured. By the Empire.”

The cold words cut into Prompto deeper than any dagger ever could. They slipped between his ribs to let the air from his lungs and it took all that he had to keep from collapsing right there.

He stared at Ignis, his arms and legs refusing to move. Heat gathered behind his eyes, threatening to leak out any second.

“What? You can’t be serious! You think--”

Gladio put a hand on Noctis’ shoulder, cutting him off. “He’s confused. Get a Remedy. I’ll hold him so he doesn’t hurt anyone.” Gladio glanced over at Prompto, still half-crouched and shaking on the ground.

Noctis nodded, stealing one last glance at Ignis. Seeing his level-headed Advisor like this, convinced Prompto was the enemy and ready to deliver the killing blow, it all felt like some twisted nightmare. They’d all been confused before, but never this bad.  

As Noctis stood up, waiting for Gladio to take Ignis’ arm, the confused man twisted free and bolted. Even with his coordination compromised, Ignis was fast. And he was sprinting straight toward Prompto.

“Damn it!” Gladio growled, pounding after Ignis. “Run, Prompto!”

Prompto’s eyes widened, fear sparking as he scrambled to his feet.  _ Thank the gods for those long years of running,  _ he thought. Unfortunately, Ignis proved just as fast. Even with the occasional stumble, he gained on Prompto, long legs eating up the distance between them. Gladio trailed behind, face red as he pushed himself to speed up.

It was Noctis who managed to stop Ignis. In a crystalline explosion of blue light, the Prince and his Advisor tumbled to the ground in a clumsy heap. 

A scream, pitched high with agony, tore through the air.

Gladio swore.

It wasn’t Ignis who had screamed. Not Noctis, either.

It was Prompto.

Noctis looked up, nearly losing his grip on Ignis. A few feet ahead, Prompto writhed on the ground as blood soaked through his jeans, staining the Coeurl spots even darker. Tears ran down his cheeks as he gasped, hands clenched around his leg. Below his shaking fingers, the ornate handle of Ignis’ dagger stuck out from the side of his thigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis wakes up. And learns of what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! The second half of the angst. Buckle up, it only gets worse, kiddos.

Ignis most certainly did  _ not _ wish to get up. Consciousness brought pain. It brought the feeling that his head was full of sharp-edged rocks, and that even the slightest movement would send them crashing against the insides of his skull. No, he wanted to remain  _ asleep _ . Fate was not to be kind to him, today.

Voices drifted into the tent as Ignis pressed his face into his stiff camping pillow with a groan. The low murmurs pricked his attention and pulled him further from the possibility of surrendering to sleep. Sighing, he finally lifted his head with a sharp wince. 

He heard Gladio, his deep voice heavy with concern. He heard Noctis’ voice, as well. A touch higher, but equally worried. 

Ignis laid on his sleeping bag and listened, hearing nothing else save for the noises of the forest around the Haven. Evening birdsong and the soft hush of a breeze through the forest foliage. He furrowed his brow, unable to shake the nagging thought that something was missing.

_ Prompto. _ Ignis pushed through the haze clogging his thoughts, straining to hear the chipper voice of his love weaving among Noctis and Gladio’s. The absent-minded tapping of fingers against a foldable camping chair, or that of his boots against the hard Haven surface. 

He didn’t hear any of it. He didn’t hear Prompto.

The fabric of his sleeping bag scrunched between his fingers as he clutched it against his chest, as if that would calm the racing of his heart. Memories were starting to drift back to him in slow, disjointed chunks.

Taking on a swarm of Killer Wasps, the cheers of Gladio and Noctis as they brought down their targets, the crack of gunshots punctuating every cry. Regrouping after battle. And then a terrible, burning agony that gnawed at every nerve before it finally pulled him under. And then nothing. 

Ignis shuddered, trying to remember what had happened between being injured and waking in the tent. Astrals, it only made his headache worse.

_ Nothing. _ He couldn’t remember a single thing. Just his own horrified screaming, cutting through the murk in his head like a blade. 

But… it didn’t sound like his own voice. No, too high-pitched. Higher than anything he could ever reach, even in the grip of pure terror.

Again, a single name pulsed amid the fog.

“Prompto,” Ignis whispered. He tried to sit upright, ignoring the pain bursting in his skull and humming in his limbs, threatening to throw him back down. 

He remembered the screaming.  _ Prompto  _ screaming. He didn’t hear Prompto outside the tent. Ignis’ heart began to stutter in his chest as his blurry mind shoved the pieces together.

Was Prompto--?

Ignis struggled to his feet as pain pulsed behind his eyes, demanding him to sit back down, to rest. He ignored it as he stumbled forward on uncooperative limbs, nearly tripping over the tent opening.

Warm stone grated against his hands as Ignis just barely caught his fall. He clenched his teeth as he straightened. His head spun. The trees surrounding the Haven wavered and blurred as nausea rolled in his stomach, but he didn't  _ care _ . Not for himself. Only for Prompto. 

Only Prompto...

“Whoa, easy there, Specs.” A tired, worried voice sounded next to his ear, followed by steadying hands.

“N… Noct?” Ignis whispered, his voice rasping in his throat like old, brittle paper. Even in hushed tones, the sound echoed through his skull, making him wince.

“Yeah. It’s Noctis. I’m right here, Iggy,” said Noctis, keeping his voice as low and quiet as he could after seeing the wince. “You okay?”

Ignis didn’t answer. Instead, he peered around the camp, blinking in the dull light of sunset. The world slowly drew into focus. 

He didn’t see Prompto. It didn’t matter if he was okay until he found him.

“Prom…? Where’s…?” Ignis swallowed hard against the dryness in his throat.

Gladio stood from his chair without a word, walking over to Ignis’ cooking station to rummage through their cooler. A few seconds later, a bottle was pressed into Ignis’ hand. Noctis guided him over to his own chair, moving slowly in case Ignis felt sick. Once he settled, Ignis took a small sip, drinking more as the cold water soothed his throat.

Noctis and Gladio said nothing. They traded uneasy glances as they waited for Ignis to finish and speak.

Pushing down his nerves, Ignis tried again, his voice coming out clearer, steadier. Much steadier than he actually felt. Fear had started to prickle over him like a creeping frost as he drank and now it threatened to freeze him where he stood. 

“Where is Prompto? Is he alright?” Ignis shifted his gaze from Gladio to Noctis. He didn’t like the expressions they wore. Not at all. 

Neither of them responded

“Noct,” Ignis demanded. Commanding the Prince felt terribly wrong. But fearing for Prompto… that felt worse. Very much so.

Noctis let out a heavy sigh, his brows crinkling with a pouty reluctance.

Dread filled Ignis’ bones, weighing his body down even further as Noctis looked at him without speaking. Open discomfort swirled in the depths of midnight blue eyes and stirred the same in Ignis. At last, Gladio spoke up, saving the both of them. 

“He’s... okay. Wanted to be alone. He’s not allowed to go too far, but… kid needed some space.” Gladio’s eyes swung to the far edge of the Haven. “He’s sitting near the bottom.”

Ignis pushed himself to his feet, feeling a little more stable after draining his bottle of water. Before he could get too far, Noctis snagged his sleeve. The upset look in the Prince’s eyes hadn’t changed.

“Ignis…” Noctis stared up at him, visibly struggling with what he wanted to say. “Just… just give him some time, okay?’

Fear finally shattered Ignis’ composure. 

“Your Highness… I--  _ Please _ … Please.” He bowed his head. He would beg. If he had to, he would beg until his voice gave out. He needed to see. Needed to know that Prompto was well. 

Noctis’ mouth fell open as he stared at Ignis, his Advisor and oldest friend, a man of relentless, stubborn pride. Bowing.  _ Begging _ . Ignis had only ever bowed to him in the Citadel, when etiquette demanded. Ignis had always been an equal in his eyes, so he had never expected that kind of stuff from him. Seeing it now, it made his stomach clench up a little.

And Ignis never begged. 

He didn’t know how to handle this.

Noctis looked over to Gladio, his mouth still hanging open as words continued to fail him. Of course, Iggy adored Prompto; they’d been dating for months. Being all disgusting and adorable in a way that caught Noctis somewhere between wanting to smile for them and wanting to vomit. 

But he’d never realised just how much  _ power _ Prompto held over Ignis. Hell, he wondered if Prompto even knew. 

Gladio’s eyes slid over Ignis, falling on the normally stoic man’s hands as he bowed his head before his Prince. They were shaking. 

With a deep grumble, he rose from his chair, taking a few steps toward the far edge of the Haven. 

“I’ll ask if he feels up to it,” he announced, not missing how Ignis’ eyes tracked him with something desperate quivering in their depths. He stopped as they drew level. “But it’s his choice.”

Then, Gladio strode toward the edge of the Haven, disappearing over the edge to leave Noctis and Ignis on their own. 

Ignis let out a wavering sigh, lifting his head to address Noctis.

“During the hunt… What happened? I must know.”

Noctis cringed, winding his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Okay. Long as we can sit down.”

* * *

Noctis stayed true to his word, informing Ignis of every detail from the moments after his injury. His confusion and his attempts to attack Prompto. Their attempts to subdue him as Prompto fled. And finally, the scream that haunted his vague memories.

Wave after wave of despair crashed over Ignis as Noctis explained, threatening to wash him away. To drown him.

He had thrown one of his daggers as Prompto had fled. 

He rarely missed. 

“We… managed to stop the… you know,” Noctis paused, making a vague hand motion toward his leg. “The bleeding. We stopped it pretty quick. Was deep, but… Prom was lucky. Hi-potion helped a lot.”

Ignis sat quiet in his chair, feeling small and cold despite the campfire in front of him. He pulled his jacket closer around his shoulders and waited for Gladio to return, unable to do much more than soak in Noctis’ words like some terrible poison. It didn’t take too long, though even those few minutes felt like an eternity.

At his questioning gaze, Gladio only gave a solemn nod, watching as Ignis rose from his seat as if in a daze.

Ignis strode forward, step by step until he reached the gentle slope leading down from the top of the Haven. His hands clenched at his sides, shaking again as he remembered that scream. He couldn't remember going after Prompto, throwing his dagger, but he could see it in his head. Noctis’ explanation had left him with enough to construct a clear enough image. 

Finally, he reached the bottom, his eyes immediately flicking toward a splash of blond hair, bright as a beacon against the dull stone. Prompto sat among a scattering of smaller boulders at the base of the Haven, his back pressed against a smooth side of the massive stone. Blue eyes, stared out into the forest beyond, dulled and disinterested. His bare legs were stretched out in front of him, and Ignis noticed the white of a bandage peeking out from the bottom of loose-fitting shorts. 

Guilt burned through his chest, stealing away his breath as he imagined himself throwing the dagger again. How could he? Even confused, how could he  _ ever _ …? 

Prompto looked up at the sound of Ignis’ footsteps, a storm of emotions rolling through his eyes as they sharpened into focus. Fear, sorrow, pain. Ignis cast his own eyes downward, focusing on the shallow ridges of stone beneath his feet. 

“H-hey,” Prompto greeted. Ignis could hear him straining to sound cheerful. To sound like nothing was wrong. “You feelin’ okay?”

Ignis couldn't help it. Something between a laugh and a sob crawled up from his throat. “I should be asking that of you.”

Prompto bit his lip, looking away. His hair fell into his eyes as he tilted his head down. As much as Ignis wanted to brush it away, to take Prompto into his arms and hold him and apologize until he ran out of breath, he remained where he was. He didn't want to frighten him, didn’t know if he was  _ allowed _ to touch him. Nor how to ask such a thing.

“It's nothing,” Prompto mumbled, picking at the hem of his shorts. 

Frustration flared through Ignis. “It is far from nothing!” he protested, dropping his voice when he saw Prompto jump at the sudden outburst. “I wounded you.”

“It'll heal,” Prompto shrugged, still looking away. “I'll have a cool scar. Like Gladio.”

Ignis sighed and lowered himself to sit a few feet from Prompto, folding his hands in his lap.

“I... suppose it will heal. With time,” he murmured, glancing down at the thick mass of bandages creating a visible lump beneath Prompto’s shorts. Something twisted in Ignis’ chest, spilling acid down through his stomach. His eyes flicked back up to Prompto’s. He still won’t look at him. “But will you?” He was almost afraid to ask. But he needed to know so that he could make this  _ right _ . He owed that to Prompto. 

Prompto didn't answer right away, and Ignis wasn't even sure if he'd heard him. If he was ignoring him or simply taking his time to answer. He just stared ahead, gazing out into the growing shadows with something heavy in his eyes. 

The runes flickered to life behind him, frosting his hair in a cyan glow as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Finally, he spoke.

“When you say you love me,” Prompto paused, taking a deep breath. “Do you mean that you love me… no matter what?”

“Of course I do,” Ignis said, taken aback. “Unconditionally. I-- I would not say it to you, if that were not true.” He tilted his head at Prompto, brow furrowed as he tried to understand. His fingers pressed into his palms, sitting rigid in his lap. “Do you think that I… that I attacked you because I don't love you?”

Prompto tilted his head down, scuffing a boot in the dirt. “No. I know you do. I know. But… what you said...” He stopped, biting his lip as he stared down at the ground. He shifted, trying to draw his knees up, but stopped with a wince, letting his arms fall limp to his sides, instead. 

Ignis’ heart cracked, threatening to fracture. The distance between them, even those few inches… it was too much. But he needed to be cautious, respectful of these new boundaries between them. He didn't want Prompto to feel threatened. To be… to be afraid of him.

“You thought I was an MT,” Prompto said, his voice quiet, fragile. He stared forward at nothing as his fingers clenched around his wrist, just above his bracelets.

“I couldn't tell friend from foe. I was confused,” Ignis explained. He was, deeply. But the explanation fell flat. “I know that you aren’t an MT, Prompto. It isn’t possible. I-- I  _ injured  _ you, and this is what has you upset?” His eyes scan over Prompto, his flesh and blood boyfriend. “You are far different from those soulless things.” He doesn’t understand. Why the fixation on this part, in specific? Prompto doesn’t even seem to  _ care _ about his injury. More about what was said, than anything. Inconsequential, feverish ramblings.

With a deep breath, Prompto raised his head, locking his eyes with Ignis’. Like he hadn’t said a word.

“Even if I _was_ from Niflheim… If I was just some _soulless_ _thing_.” His voice cracked a little. His eyes glittered for a brief moment, and he had to swipe his arm over them before continuing. The tremors in his voice shook Ignis’ soul and he found himself inching forward. 

“You would still love me, right? You wouldn’t-- ...you wouldn't want to-- ...to  _ kill me?” _

The last two words came out as a sob, and Ignis couldn't stand the distance between them any longer. Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand, brushing his fingers over Prompto’s. Hope glowed in his heart when Prompto didn't flinch away.

“It was by misfortune that I targeted you. I acted out of instinct to protect his Majesty.” The words fall out fast, desperate. He isn't reaching Prompto. This isn't going how it should. “I would have rather turned my blade on myself, had I been aware.” 

“I don't care!” Prompto shouted, curling into himself as he dug his fingers through his hair. His shoulders shook once, and Ignis heard the sharp sound of a sniffle. “I don’t-- ... Just… just tell me. Tell me that you'd still love me.”

Ignis stared as Prompto hunched in front of him, shuddering. His heart finally fractured into pieces at the words. His fingers tightened over Prompto’s as he looked up from under messy bangs, still matted with sweat from the battle.

“I would,” Ignis whispered, trying to remain calm but near desperate at the look in Prompto’s eyes. “I would still love you.”

How to make him understand?

“No matter the circumstances, Prompto. I love you.”

That look… it won’t go away. 

“I would still love you just the same.”

Like he doesn’t believe him.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… my love.”


End file.
